A Father's gift
by Forefront
Summary: What creates a hero, a legend? Lance looks into his past and remembers why he began his journey as a trainer.


A Father's Gift

Everyone stood outside the door to the indigo stadium. Hundreds of people: die hard fans, trainers, reporters, squealing little girls, squealing big girls, and a few who only wanted to see what the crowd was for. However, it didn't matter who they were, they all recognized the figure that stepped through the threshold next. Come on, how could they not. His picture was in every trainers magazine in the world, and he was known as possibly the best pokemon trainer of all time. He caused his opponents to tremble in his presence, and had not lost a match since; no one knew when.

Yes, it's true. Many around the world knew of Lance, the dragon trainer. His pokemon were a force that, together, could not be stopped. Yet, it wasn't always this way. The great Lance had a past just like any other normal person. Well, perhaps a little different. Lance revisited his childhood as he walked quietly through the crowd to his chauffeured car.

* * *

"Lance, time for dinner!" his father yelled out the window. A few minutes later Lance came running into the house and sat down at the table. "Have fun today?" his father inquired lovingly.

"Yup. I scored two runs and three RBI's." Lance exclaimed happily as he reached for the fried chicken in the middle of the table.

"That's my boy," his father said. Lance had a good childhood. Though he grew up in a somewhat rough neighborhood, he had a caring, responsible father who loved him. His father was a strong man whose job it was to monitor smelter gauges at the steel mill across town. He made a modest salary that managed to get them by, and he always made time for his son. He had decided a long time ago, after the death of his wife (Lance's mother) to a gang related shooting, that he would dedicate himself to making sure his son would be able to get out of the stix and become successful.

"Dad, can I have a pokemon?" Lance asked.

"I'm sorry son, but I've told you, we just can't afford to feed a pokemon right now."

"Oh, but I want one," young Lance pouted.

"I'll tell you what, why don't we talk about it later. It's almost eight, time for you to get a bath."

"Aww, not tonight."

"Every night. Now go upstairs and get your pajamas, and I'll go run the water." At that, Lance got up from the table and headed upstairs.

* * *

The next morning produced an ominous sky. Rain poured down on the run down apartment buildings on the block. Lance and his father went through their morning routines as usual, and left their one room apartment for the day. First, Lance was dropped off at school. Most of the money that came into the house was used to pay for Lance's private schooling. Next, his father went to work. It was an average day for the both of them, Lance traded lunches with Amy, his girlfriend as far as kindergartners go, and his dad kept all the steel smelters from over heating. After work Lance's father took a different direction than home. He went left at the second light, and headed toward Vermilion City.

"Okay children, lets get out our workbooks and turn to page five. Can anyone read me the words in the box?" the teacher questioned as she looked around the room. "Yes?" she asked, pointing to a boy in the back. However, before the boy could answer, the school principal came into the room.

"Mrs. Harris, I need to see you and Lance in the hall if I may," the principal said in a solemn tone. Lance and the teacher followed the principal into the hall where officer Jenny stood. She kneeled down to look Lance in the eye, and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you Lance?" she asked. He nodded, but did not speak.

"Your father... he has, been in an accident." Lance stared at officer Jenny. "Your father... he..." she choked on the words, unable to explain the situation to him.

"Lance," the principal said, "do you know what it means when someone dies?" The tears welling up in the child's eyes were a clear enough answer for all of them.

* * *

Lance sat in the car, remembering that fateful day. He remembered how his uncle had taken him in, and how officer Jenny had given him a gift. The last thing he would ever receive from his father. The reason his father had been on that treacherous road. It was a baby dratini that he had found in the city, and had bought for his son. His pride and joy. His only reason to exist.

"You did it dad." Lance whispered as a tear rolled down his cheek, "I made it."


End file.
